


Of A Lesser Sort

by A_Peculiar_Child



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: All The Ships, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Avatar: The Last Airbender References, Enoch O'connor is awesome, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Family, Foster Care, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Olive is adorable, bronwyn is too nice for her own good, i love millard, mentions of Once Upon a Time, so is claire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Peculiar_Child/pseuds/A_Peculiar_Child
Summary: "I am an author and poet. I write children's stories, these fairy tales I created, showing everyone what is inside me."Amaya was a kid who grew up in the system and tried hard to get out of this horrible life. Little did she know that her life was about to take a rather unexpected turn.
Relationships: Hugh Apiston/Fiona Frauenfeld, Millard Nullings/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. Title Page




	2. A Normal Day

It was a completely normal day. Nothing was amiss. I was writing my newest story, when my computer crashed.

"Aw, darn it. Now I have to write it out by hand."

I rummaged through my drawers, looking for a pencil to write with. I came upon a postcard I had sworn I had thrown away as soon as I got it.

I got angry. This was from my Father, who left when I was 7, and only now wanted to contact me. What about me for those 8 years alone? My mother died in childbirth. I had to grow up in the system, shifting from foster home to foster home. I almost shredded the card, but thought better of it. I retrieved a pencil, and started writing.

> _"Once upon a time, there lived a young maiden, named Kai, with an extraordinary secret. She could control the water. She watched the moon push and pull the tides, and copied the movement. Every night you could see her swaying with the water, pushing and pulling in such a steady rhythm, that no one ever thought it was out of the ordinary. One day, her little sister found her by the ocean, and scared her. The ocean drenched her. The sister was frightened, and almost told the elders, but Kai stopped her._
> 
> _"I can teach you." Kai said, and the sister smiled_
> 
> _So each night, they would sway together, pushing and pulling in such a steady rhythm. The sister, however did not have the talent of her sister, but was content at learning this new dance. They called their secret dance Hula, and they taught their daughters and granddaughters, hoping that one would have the gift._
> 
> _Alas, none showed signs. They only learned the dance. The whole family became skilled dancers._
> 
> _When people saw the dancing, and asked about it, the dancers would reply, "Go down, go down to the ocean, go and see."_
> 
> _The art was obscured until there was no trace of the woman who created it. In the world now, if someone shows the signs of being gifted like Kai, they are ushered away, never to be seen again. That is what the corrupt have done."_

"Perfect." I said, checking my work. It captured my life in a few paragraphs. I loved to write, and I was really good at it. The only difference was that my foster "sister'', Diana was not so supportive. I burned all of my stories and my novel that I had just written, about to be sent off to a publisher. Then Diana hit me and told me that I would never be able to live off of books. Bookworms don't last long on the streets, as she said.

I was going to prove them wrong. I wouldn't end up on the streets. I would get everyone in the foster home _off_ the streets. Even Diana.

I was writing something no one in my home ever got to see a glimpse of. A book of NEW fairy tales no one has ever heard. Created by myself.

I called it When Children Give. Children everywhere gave our world what it has today, with their talents, their gifts.

The Foster system was my life. It has always been my life and it always will be, until I figure out a way to get out of here.

I carefully placed a stamp in the perfect position on the box containing my story book. I wanted to make sure I looked as professional as possible. This could be my ticket out of here.

I skipped along the road, when I was grabbed by large hands, and shoved in a van. A blindfold was tied to my eyes.

"Please let me go! What did I do? Oh, Lord help me!" I cried. It was happening. I was going to die.

* * *

My blindfold was ripped off my face. A very large person was standing in front of the door.

“This is a dream, isn’t it? I’ll wake up and I’ll be back on my bed, back to my boring life.” I prayed that it was true.

“Don’t you wish that?” The man said wickedly. His accent was flat, and I could not see his face. He brandished a rather large knife, that glimmered in the light. It had some fancy writing carved on the handle. On his shirt was a name tag that said “Hello, I’m Smith”.

“You see, miss, I don’t like to have to do this the hard way. I’m going to ask you once, nicely, and you are going to answer me immediately.” Smith smirked. He ran the knife’s dull side across my cheek. The cold metal sent a chill down my spine “What do you know?”

“I’m not sure I’m following you, What do I know about what?” I was scared and confused. 

“You know what.” He whispered into my ear and ran his arms down to my waist, still keeping a firm grip on his knife. I felt sick to my stomach. “Otherwise you would not be writing about it, hm?”

“My fairy tales? That’s all they are, aren’t they?” I said frantically, as Smith touched my chin with the knife, “Please let me go. I promise I won't write them anymore.”

“Well, if I let you go, that’ll be no fun.” Something passed across his face, a greed, a lust almost. “I don’t think so. Let’s have some real fun, _Amaya_.”

I screamed, then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. A coffee mug lifting off the table, and pouring boiling hot coffee on Smith. Him yelling in agony, and something tugging on my arm.

“Don’t you want to live? Don’t just stand there!” The van door opened, and a bunch of teenagers ran in. There was a girl that was muscular, a normal looking boy, a girl with… FIRE IN HER HANDS???? There was also a prepubescent boy that was standing there with a smirk on his face.

I did the thing any logical person would do in my shoes when all of this happened. I fainted. 


	3. A Peculiar Conversation

I heard distinctly British voices above me. I kept my eyes closed, hoping to understand what is going on.

“If she faints when she sees a peculiarity then she can’t be the one the ymbrynes were talking about!” A girl’s sweet Welsh accent said.

“Give her a chance, you never know what lies in store….” This was a sophisticated voice, like the kind you hear in movies that the villain uses.

“Look, she’s waking up!” A cockney accent said

I groaned. I was hoping to hear more. I looked around me and saw that we were in an old parking lot.

“Rise and shine!” The cockney accented boy said. “Wow. You actually are shorter than me!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I said

“Nothing. Enoch is just being an ass.” The sophisticated voice said out of thin air.

I jumped. The other people seemed used to voices talking out of thin air.

“Millard, You really need to put on some clothes!” The normal looking boy I saw earlier said

“So, Millard is invisible?” I said, trying to comprehend ”And you said Enoch is an ass, and you are?”

“I’m Emma, that’s Bronwyn and this is Jacob.” Emma said. She was the girl I saw fire in her hands. This was getting crazier by the minute.

“I'm just going to go home now.” I said “And I’ll just forget all of this. If you can direct me to the nearest police station I will be much obliged.”

“Hold on, we need to ask you a few questions.” Jacob said

“Please just let me go home. This is all way too much to take in.” I started crying at the thought of what the man could have done to me.

“Hey, what are you crying about? You were just saved.” Jacob looked absolutely clueless.

“Shut up Jacob,” Bronwyn said, and sat beside me. “No one is going to hurt you, so why don’t you tell us something about yourself? I'm sure we'd all love to hear how you got into this mess.”

I regained my composure, looked them straight in the eye and said, ”My name is Amaya Bartista. Others call me Maya. I am an author and poet. I write children's stories, these fairy tales I created, showing everyone what is inside me. My english teacher, Miss Peters, said I have a chance they could be published, so I wrote a collection of them to be sent off. I was walking home, when that man grabbed me.”

"So, basically, you’re a major league nerd like Millard." Enoch deduced. Emma shot him daggers, but I laughed.

“I read and write because I love to, and if that does not make me at least  _ somewhat _ a nerd, I don’t know what does!”

“Finally, someone who appreciates  _ culture.”  _ the invisible boy said.

“I have one question, oh, appreciator of culture. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” I said

“Miss Peregrine will tell you everything.” He replied.

“Peregrine? Like the bird?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes, what else would it be like?” Enoch said impatiently, leading me to the sports car.

“For all I know it could be just a name.” I twisted out of his grip on my arm and started walking towards nowhere in particular.

“Where are you going?” Emma said. And I bumped into the invisible barrier in front of me.

“Jeez, people, I want to leave.”

“You need to come with us.”

“I think I know better then to get in with people I don't even know into a fancy car, to God knows where.” I checked my non-existent watch. “Besides, I have to be home before the Croc finds out I left.”

“The Croc?” Jacob asked

“Miss Baudelaire. She runs the foster home. She’s big and scary and moves slow like a Crocodile.” I explained

“Foster home?” Bronwyn cocked her head.

“I’m pretty sure I made that clear…“ I said

“I’ll tell you later,” Jacob said. “Have you ever wanted to leave your foster home? Like, explore the world?”

I stopped and tilted my head. “Don’t you think every kid dreams that? Why do you think I want to publish my writing?”

“Then come with us.”

I hesitated. This could be my chance.

“How long will it take?"


	4. A Peculiar Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I wish I was invisible..." "Then no one would care about my skin color" "Hispanic Girls are less likely to be adopted then perfectly white kids like you all."

The children squished into the car, barely fitting. 

I was used to this, in my last foster home, I had to sit on the lap of my older “Brother”. He was always stroking my hair or playing with my skirt, and when I would tell him to stop, he would threaten to tell his mother that I was being inappropriate and disgusting. I shut my mouth after that.

I looked for a place where I could sit. There was a seemingly empty space between Bronwyn and Enoch, so I sat down. 

I was greeted with a very shocked invisible boy saying “Do you mind?” 

I jumped up. “At least carry this!” I took a string and tied it to his wrist in a knot he could take out quickly and easily.

“Now I can sorta see where you are. And, frankly, I want to be able to see where all of you are.” I said, as I squished next to him.

Enoch rolled his eyes and Emma laughed. Emma reminded me of someone from many years ago. I could not place my finger in it, but they all seemed familiar.

“Let’s go.”

\---

We drove through towns, and Enoch kept on making snarky comments, and I made more back. 

We came upon a neighborhood that looked amazing. It looked like the kind where a rich, snobby person would live for half a year. 

“Where are we?” I asked “Is Miss Peregrine some rich lady?”

“No, This is Jacob’s neighborhood. We are coming closer to his house.”

I looked out the window and sighed. Jacob was a rich kid. Probably an only child with money to waste. I hated going to fancy places, because I always looked a mess.

I looked down at my current attire. It was mud spotted and ripped down the side. No state to be in to meet a lady the others spoke so highly of.

“Sometimes I wish I was invisible…“ I said to Millard ”Then no one would care about my skin color, or my hair being out of place. You are so lucky.”

The others looked startled at my sudden comment.

“Why would anyone care about the color of your skin?” Bronwyn asked.

“Well, for instance, hispanic girls are less likely to be adopted then perfectly crystal white kids like you all.” I said bitterly.

Everyone became suddenly very quiet. All you could hear was the humming of the engine, as we pulled into the driveway.

“I didn’t notice you were Hispanic.” Millard said, “Do you know any Spanish? I’ve been meaning to learn.”

“ _ Sé un poco de español. Sois todos muy amables por no discriminar mi piel. Muchas gracias. _ ” I said

Enoch said “What the hell does it mean?”

“I said ‘I know a little Spanish. You are all very kind for not discriminating against my skin. Thank you.” I put it simply.

Everyone got out of the car and walked over to an old pot shed.

“What…” I started to ask, then an invisible hand covered my mouth.

“Must you talk?” Enoch rolled his eyes. This kid must have amazingly strong eyeball muscles to be able to do it that many times.

“Well, sorry if being curious is bothering you!” I retorted

“You two are arguing like two year olds!” Emma said.

One by one, the others went into the shed. There was no way we were going to all fit in there. 

“After you, m’lady.” Millard said

"Okay, if an invisible boy is real, then that means that something may be behind that door other than pots."

I held my breath and went through the door. My ears popped and I took a deep breath. This was strange. Why was everything on fire? Why did the sky look so grave? Why did it look like I walked into the 1600s?

“So you all are back from your little trip, eh?” A man in a dark cloak said. “And you brought someone with you.”

“Hello.” I said, still dazed at the fact that we teleported to the past. 

“This is Sharon. Come on , let’s go see Miss P.”

“Wait, We went through a tool shed in Florida, and came out in…”

“Devil’s Acre.” Millard said “On fire forever, because of the loop.”

“Loop?” I asked

“Miss Peregrine can explain better.” Emma said hurriedly

We walked to a large, gray building that said “Mental Hospital” on it

“Yep, I am nuts. Invisibles, teleporters, Loops, now I’m being led to a mental hospital” I shook my head, “It’s so sad I ended up here.”

“That’s what I thought too at first,” Jacob said, ”It’ll be better when you learn about it.”

I saw a woman that looked like she was strict, yet kind. Almost like those foster parents that ended up adopting their children

“Miss Barista, a pleasure to meet you. I am Alma Lefay Peregrine. You may call me Miss Peregrine.”


	5. A Peculiar Dinner

“Hello, Miss Peregrine, It is good to finally meet you.” I said, curtsying “I heard you could explain everything to me. Like, for instance WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

“Well, let's start with the fact that us people in this loop, are Peculiar, a subspecies of homo sapiens.”

“There are peculiars all over the world," she said, "though our numbers are much diminished from what they once were. Those who remain live in hiding, as we do.There was a time when we could mix openly with common folk. In some corners of the world we were regarded as shamans and mystics, consulted in times of trouble, but now we are persecuted.”

“So why not just band together and live in a country?”

“If only it had been that simple,” she said. “Peculiar traits often skip a generation, or ten. Peculiar children are not always, or even usually, born to peculiar parents, and peculiar parents do not always, or even usually, bear peculiar children. Can you imagine, in a world so afraid of otherness, why this would be a danger to all peculiar-kind?”

“Because you are different, you are persecuted, like me. No one wants to adopt the little Latino girl.”

“Exactly, The peculiar offspring of common parents are often abused and neglected in the most horrific ways. It wasn’t so many centuries ago that the parents of peculiar children simply assumed that their ‘real’ sons or daughters had been made off with and replaced with changelings—that is, enchanted and malevolent, not to mention entirely fictitious, lookalikes—which in darker times was considered a license to abandon the poor children, if not kill them outright.”

“What? They had no right to do that to children!” My blood began to boil.

“Yes. Something had to be done, so people like myself created places where young peculiars could live apart from common folk—physically and temporally isolated enclaves like this one, of which I am not proud.”

“Now I wish even more that I was invisible.”

She gave me a knowing smile and continued, “Peculiars are gifted with skills that are infinite in combination and variety. Some skills are common, like reading thoughts, and others are rare, such as the way I can manipulate time.”

“Time? That is so cool!”

“She can also turn into a bird!” A little girl with curly hair said “All birds can time travel!”

“Birds can manipulate time?” I asked

Miss Peregrine nodded soberly. “Most slip back and forth only occasionally, by accident. We who can manipulate time fields consciously are known as ymbrynes.”

“Ymbryne. Okay.” I said “So, Miss, why did the others come get me? I am normal, except for the fact that I’m allergic to cinnamon.”

“You will see.” She turned “Dinner is in a few minutes, you may wash up. Miss Bloom will take you to the water closet.”

“Come on, Maya,” Emma said. 

“Your last name is Bloom? That’s pretty.” I said as we went to the Bathroom.

But Emma just smiled at me. I watched as she ran cold water into the tub and then warmed it with her bare hands, swirling them around until steam rose.

“Did I ever tell you how crazy that is?” I said “Thanks, Em, for everything.” 

She smiled and left me to my business. I remembered when I was small, And my dad would make sure the water was just right, before letting me go in. I turned the water brown, and I got out of the tub to see a dress from like, 1940. It was ankle length, at least.

I put my hair up in pigtails. I looked like a 3rd grader and didn’t care. I smoothed my dress. 

“What is her peculiarity?” I heard Enoch say, “She must have one, or else she wouldn’t be able to enter the loop.”

“Shut up, Enoch,” Millard snapped “She’ll learn her power later.”

I walked out of the bathroom as if I didn’t just hear the conversation.

“Hello Enoch. What is for dinner?”

“Goose.”

“Never tasted that before.” 

“Well, you’ll get used to that.”

We walked to the dining room. There were my acquaintances from before, as well as new faces. There was a boy sitting under a mosquito net next to a girl with bush-like hair. There was also a little girl strapped into a chair and wearing a tiara, as well as the little golden haired girl I saw earlier. Finally there was a boy, dressed smartly and looking particularly proud of himself.

“Hello, everyone.” I said shyly.

“Hi! I’m Olive! I can float!” The little girl who was strapped to the chair wore the biggest smile on her little face, with brown locks falling all over.

“I’m Claire! And I have a backmouth!” The girl with golden curls showed me that under her hair was a mouth with sharp teeth. I jumped back. The other laughed. 

“I’m Hugh and this is Fiona. I have bees, and she can make plants grow.” the boy under the mosquito net said.

The smartly dressed boy said “My name is Horace Sumnusson, And I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I have prophetic dreams”

“And you know Millard is invisible, Bronwyn is Strong, And Emma has fire.”

“What do Enoch and Jacob do?”

“I can raise the dead, or make things that aren't alive come to life.” Enoch said proudly.

“And I can see things others can’t.” Jacob said.

“Wow. Nice to meet you all.” I ate slowly, and quietly. I could not understand why everyone was so loud during dinner. The thing was that if you talked during dinner at my old Foster home you didn't eat.

Millard had on some clothes. He sat right across from me. He kept on trying to make small talk.

“So, what is your favorite book?”

“Definitely _Little Women_.” I said “How about you?”

“ _The Hobbit_.” He said without much of a thought.

“Cool.” I said and looked down.

“What is your favorite thing to do?”

“Read. And write.”

“Why are you so quiet?” Claire asked, her backmouth chewing on a goose leg. “Are you like Fiona?”

“No, it’s just I’m not used to talking to people while eating.” I said

“Well, If Miss Barista does not want to talk, then don’t make her.” Miss Peregrine said stiffly.

Thankful for the break, I ate in silence and got up from the table and asked where I could find a place to sleep. This peculiarity stuff was too much to handle.

“My parents are on Vacation. You can stay in the guest bedroom.” Jacob said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on anyone!” I said. “I don’t know if your parents would want a runaway living in their house!”

“Miss Peregrine can wipe their memories!” Olive said

I stared at Miss Peregrine's could she actually do that. Could she wipe the memories of people who knew me?

“No one’s memories are being wiped” Miss Peregrine said sternly. She didn’t deny it

“So it’s settled. Amaya is staying at Jacob’s.”

"NO I am not. I'm more used to sleeping on the floor then a rich house. Just please, let me sleep here!"

Miss P. Hesitated, then said "Children what do you think?"

"She can sleep in our room!" Claire said excitedly.

"What about the basement?" Enoch said. "There's an empty storage room that I didn't get around to cleaning."

"I'm okay with that!" I said.

"Just be careful to wear ear plugs. Enoch is up late at night."

"Does the door lock?" That wasn't a necessity but it still would made me feel more comfortable, especially after what happened with Smith.

"Yes." Enoch said

"Then I'm good."


	6. A Peculiar Study

The storage room was nicer than I thought it would be. We only needed to move things around. 

I laid back and my thoughts flooded in. 

Why me? Anyone else in my foster home could’ve been peculiar. Why was I, a normal girl who couldn’t fight for anything, chosen by the Ymbrynes?

What is up with the children and Miss Peregrine seeming so old-fashioned? And why does Devil’s Acre remind me of those old photos of London from the 1800s? 

Before long, I fell asleep looking at the ceiling and wondering what the heck that red stain on the ceiling was. 

\--

I awoke to a knocking on the door. I rushed to get out of bed to open it. Millard was standing in a nice outfit, very 1900s.

“Good morning!” I yawned, “Come in! Sit on the bed!”

“No, I just came to tell you it's time for breakfast.” He announced

“Thanks Mill.” I said, and smiled in his direction. “I think I'm going to like it here.”

Breakfast was eggs and salted pork. There wasn’t that much of a variety, but there was a lot of it!

“G Morning everyone.” I remarked

“Morning Maya!” Olive said. She was obviously a morning person, like me.

“Where’s Miss P?” 

“Off in some ymbryne meeting.” Horace wasn't eating the eggs or the salted pork. He was eating toast with a bit of jam on it.

“Are you vegetarian or something?” I asked, already getting my plate to pile food on.

“No, he thinks he’ll get fat if he eats anything more than that every morning.” Hugh said, laughing.

“I do not!” Horace said. “I’m just more sophisticated in my eating habits!”

“Alright, Mr. Sophisticated Eating Habits, do you know when she'll be back.”

“Noon.” He said, still sulking.

“Is there a library, or just books I can read about peculiarity? I want to learn as much as possible about this world.” I asserted

“I have some. You can borrow them.” Millard said, “I can help you understand the language of old Peculiar.”

“Thank you.” I ate quickly. I wanted to read up about this.

Millard and I went down to the library, and he brought out a giant book called Tales of the Peculiar.

“A book of tales, like my own?” I asked.

“These are stories handed down from generation to generation.” He said proudly, “I have annotated this copy.”

“Well, that will help.” We sat at the writing table, and he pointed out key features of the stories as I took notes.

Soon enough, I learned all about the peculiar stories. We finished the book, and he set it down.

“Millard?” Something was bugging me and had for a while, ever since I met these children.

“What?”

“What do you look like?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.” He said slowly, “I haven’t seen myself in a long time.”

“I got an idea.” I said and pulled out a Sketchbook from my backpack. “There was this girl from the foster home, she was blind, and she asked each of us if she could feel our faces. Then she sketched out what we looked like. She taught me to do the same.”

I felt Millard’s face, starting with his hair. It was soft, and I could tell he hadn’t combed it in a while. I sketched it out and moved on to his face.

“Close your eyes.” I said and felt them. They were wide. His nose was small, and a little bent up. After, I sketched his lips. His top lip was slightly smaller than the bottom. His chin was not exactly cleft, but had a small indentation, like a scar.

“What did you do here?” I wanted to know.

“A bullet grazed my face,” he said without emotion.

“You and your friends are crazy, Mill.” I said, shaking my head at the thought of them fighting villains like superheroes on TV.

“We saved Peculiarity,” He boasted

“Up until now, I haven't even known that existed.” I said and smoothed the edges of the picture. It was beautiful. If I could trust my drawing, Millard was a handsome guy.

“MILLARD AND AMAYA SITTING IN A TREE, Y-M-B-R-Y-N-E!” Enoch sang.

“Thank you, Enoch, for teaching me how to spell ymbryne.” I said, rolling my eyes. “And that doesn't even make sense.”

“Yes, it does.” He affirmed “That’s who will chew you out if they find you there!”

“Oh, go play with a dead animal.”

“I came to tell you that Miss Peregrine wants you.” He said.

“Oh, I wanted to ask her more about this.” I smiled at the headless suit of clothes, “See you later.”

“See you at dinner, Amaya.” He said.

-

“Miss Barista, you may take a seat.” Miss Peregrine said, then gestured to two women standing next to her. “This is Miss Avocet, as well as Miss Wren.”

“What type of bird is an avocet?” I asked, sitting in the chair provided.

“It is like a sandpiper.” Miss Avocet explained. 

“Do you know why I have called you here, Miss Barista?” Miss Peregrine questioned.

“Nope.” I said, and fiddled with the cushion of the chair. I hated being in the spotlight. It reminded me of when people came to “check out” me. Often they would leave, saying they would “think about it”, then never come back. 

“We need to discuss an important matter.” Miss Wren said. “Do you know if you have a… talent? A peculiarity?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t exactly wake up in the morning spouting fire or anything.” I said, and sunk into the chair. Because I said that they were probably going to kick me out now. Oh, well.

“Well, only the peculiar species can enter a loop.”

“Wait, so you are saying… “ I said, trying to process.

Miss Peregrine nodded. “You, my dear, are peculiar.”


	7. A Peculiar Reaction

“P-peculiar? But no. That can’t be real.” My head started hurting slightly, so I pinched my nose. “You are telling a lie. All of you! Nothing this good can happen to  _ me. _ ” I started running. Running quicker than I ever had before. I wanted to get away. Run away from all this madness. I ran right into an invisible figure.

“Woah, Maya. What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Just found out I really am whacko! You're unreal. You have to be. You're some special effects, made to test me! Everytime something good happens to me, it’s never real.” I started running all over again, but invisible hands braced me back.“Millard, Let me go! Or whatever your real name is!”

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked, coming out of the dining room.

“What’s going on is I’m out of here! I’m in a cuckoo's nest! Talking to an invisible boy, a girl who can hover, and who knows what the hell else?”

“It’s okay. But why run now?” Jacob responded

My headache was driving me crazy. I started hitting and hitting, trying to get free of the restraint I couldn’t see. Then, blood spurted out on my hand. Red, nauseating blood. I had broken Millard’s nose in my outburst.

“Oh, God, you are real! And I-i hurt you!” I shimmied out of his now loosened clasp and sprant onto the streets of Devil’s Acre.

“Wait, Maya! It was only an a-” I shut out his voice and the others.

I bawled as I ran past shops and stalls. I ran past the wretched river, and sat under the bridge. “Why? Why am I so terrible at making friends? Why do I never get anything nice? They must all hate my guts now.”

I sobbed for about half an hour, then crawled further under the bridge. For all one knows. my peculiarity could be to disappear forever. I hurt Millard. That was unforgivable. “I don’t deserve to even meet them. “

I thought back to all the times things were finally looking up for me, when the walls just came tumbling down.

My dad left when I was 4. He dropped me off at some crappy group home and never turned back. Then, at 6, a family agrees to foster me. When I was 8, They had a child of their own and got rid of me. Like some stray puppy. 

When I was 10, I learned the cold truth. No one wants a colored girl. Especially not one past 10. My friend Shayla got it worse, being mixed white and columbian. Nevertheless, Even she went home with her new family. Never came back. 

Then I was in another home, with a foster “Brother’ and that worked until I was 13, and he began touching me. So that didn’t last long. I lived in the group foster home ever since. Now I’ll be kicked out of here too.

Suddenly, I heard some rustling. They discovered me. Better get this over with.

The wild hair girl from dinner came under the bridge and sat under it with me. She just sat there. Didn’t speak, didn’t do anything. Just sat.

“Millard probably hates me, right?” I questioned her, and she gently shook her head.

“You don’t talk very much, do you? I like it.” She smiled gently and opened her mouth. Where her tongue should have been, there was a fleshy lobe.

“God, what happened? Was it like Mill said, and happened when you guys saved peculiarity?” 

She nodded soberly.

“Guess I’ll undoubtedly have to face Millard, huh?” I did not look forward to that. 

She grinned and gripped my hand. We walked back to the house and saw Miss Peregrine standing there. Suddenly, my head began hurting. I instantly started getting dizzy.

“Miss Frauenfeld, I heartily thank you for coming back with Miss Barista. You may go to eat lunch.” Fiona looked at me funny, but went inside.”

“Miss Barista, can you sufficiently explain your violent outburst?” 

“Miss, it was confusing, and I hurt Millard. Now my head won't stop hurting! I just got rid of a headache, now it wont stop! I need my medicine. Let me go back to the present!”

“No one is preventing you. You may depart from here whenever you wish. I was only just going to identify why you were experiencing those headaches.”

My skull aches so bad. I drifted in and out of darkness. 

“Miss Barista?” Miss Peregrine looked upon me with a sad, and almost, pitying face. I fell into Bronwyn’s sturdy arms, and drifted gently into sweet, calm, black.

\---

“Maya, you up yet?” A little voice said softly.

I groaned in agony, sitting up. “I am right now. What’s up?”

“You okay?” The little girl asked. It was obviously that floating girl I saw earlier. 

“Yeah. Why would you ask?”

“You ran away from us. Are we scary? I know Claire and Emma are, but they are really nice. All of us are nice. Except Enoch, but he’s just Enoch.

I smiled at the younger girl. “I didn’t run because of you guys. I ran because I didn’t want to be peculiar. I want to be normal.”

“But being peculiar is so cool! I can float!” She showed me her shoes. “I need these to keep me from floating away!”

“To be honest, I was afraid I would learn I am different, only for it to be just a wonderful dream that I must wake from.”

“Well I’m not your dream!” She said cheerfully, then became suddenly very serious. “At least, I don’t think so…”

I laughed at the little girl's sudden seriousness. Enoch walked past the room and stuck his head in.

“Hey Maya, you're up. I’ll tell the headmistress.” He smirked, “And your  _ boyfriend _ .”

“Don’t tell Millard anything.” I said “And he’s not my..”

“Yeah, right.” Enoch went upstairs to get the Mistress.

Millard came with her, sporting a bandage where his face would be.

“Millard, I’m so sorry… I was confused… and my head… and…” I started crying all over again, “I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially the people I just met. I’m sorry.” I wiped my tears, expecting an angry reaction on Miss Peregrine’s face. It wasn't angry. It was… almost sad.

Miss Barista,” She began, “You have actually reacted pretty calmly contrasted to some of the other children. Unfortunately, Miss Bruntley found out about her remarkable peculiarity when she forcibly broke her alcoholic stepfather's neck. How do you think a 10-year-old girl would merely react to that?”

I was jaw dropped. “Bronwyn  _ killed _ someone? No way.”

“It’s true, the talented children went through so much before, living in different times. Miss Fraunfeld lived through the Irish Potato Famine.”

“Wait, she is 16. How the hell did she?” I gasped, “You all are from the past. That’s why you all are so old fashioned!.” The loops kept you young! This is like a fountain of youth!”

“Not exactly. If a peculiar stays too long, they will ‘age forward’ or instantly become their biological stage of life.”

“So, it comes with a price.” I grinned goofily, “All magic comes at a price, dearie.”

“Yes, you may put it that way.” she sighed dismissively, “Your peculiarity is both a blessing and a curse.”

“What exactly is my peculiarity?” I asked slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I sorry that I made Maya punch Millard in the face? No.  
> Am I sorry Millard got hurt? Yes.


	8. A Peculiar Ability

“You are an Author.” She put simply. I heard the others gasp, but most of all Millard.

“Yes, I know that, but what does that have to do with peculiarity?” I asked, hoping she would stop being so cryptic.

“Us Peculiars have… a library of sorts. It’s where peculiar souls are kept, in the time they are not occupying a human.”

“So…” My mind raced to figure out what was happening. 

“There are ‘Librarians’ and ‘Authors.’ They are the only two types of peculiars that can see and handle souls. Librarians, however, only handle these said jars. Every two thousand years, these souls expire. They become obsolete and must be replaced. Souls that occupy a human during this time period are the only ones left from the original.”

“Do you know any other Authors?” I asked quietly, hoping I wasn’t the only one that had to deal with being this lesser sort of person.

“No.” Millard said, and I looked down. This was even more outrageous than I had imagined. 

“So, I’m only here to write souls? How the heck is I supposed to do that?”

“You already have. Your stories? Of peculiar children? They will manifest into renewed spirits. And so far we will have a soul who can manipulate water to their will, another with the head of a pig, and everything else you wrote.”

“So, I write stories? That’s my part in this crazy world?” 

“Indeed, and unfortunately, a time consuming one. Most Authors have been trained since they were seven, but you will have to make-do being eight years late.”

“So, am I off to be whisked away like Harry Potter?” I asked, hoping the answer was no. I hated moving.

“No, you will train under Miss Avocet, who is in Devil’s Acre.” She ushered the other kids out. “You will begin training next week, at 7:12 A.M.”

Now that the other kids were gone, I felt suddenly unnerved. Like nobody understood. I felt this way all the time. But I detected someone else’s presence.

“Amaya?” Millard said, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am. The question should be, are you okay?”

“Yes, a bloody nose never stopped me before. Besides, serves me right for trying to stop you.” He laughed, almost like a melody, 

“I’m sorry." I said, hoping that Millard didn’t notice the tears in my eyes, “I have never felt this alone before, Mill. I was always invisible to others, but now that I stand out, I want my invisibility back.”

“Being invisible is a pain. You know, I wanted to be a teacher, before this.” He sat next to me, my hand slightly brushing against his. “Something's bothering you. I saw it since you came here. If you have anything you need off your chest, you let me know.” 

“Millard, I-” My words were caught in my throat. What was this extraordinary pleasure I got whenever he was near? “Thank you.” I kissed his forehead, or his cheek maybe? He jumped back a little at my touch.

“Mill, you are so charming and witty. I’m delighted to be your friend.” I smiled at his direction and squeezed his hand. “I heard dinner was going to be ready in about thirty. Would my knight in shining armor escort me to the library until then?” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I couldn’t see him, but his presence was enough.

"Oh, just kiss already!" groaned a cockney voice from outside the room, as if launching a wave through the air and separating us two. Enoch grinned like a Cheshire cat, and said “You lovebirds better, or else I’ll have grizzled hairs before Millard convinces a lovely girl to kiss him..”

I was so embarrassed. How could Enoch say that? I barely even thought about Millard romantically.

“Enoch, have you gone witless? We just met three days ago.” Millard said, his accent giving way to a unique one, like a mix of Irish and Scottish with a British cherry on top.

“And my mum met my dad on their wedding day.” He grinned.

“Really? Dang is that why you are so kind to everyone? Or is it just that you like being an arse?”

“Millard and me, kissing?” I laughed, trying to play it off. “I don’t even know why on earth you would say that?”

Ridiculous! It sounded like those icky romance stories that I hated. “A boy meets girl! Three days later they kiss! A week later, he proposes! They get married and live happily ever after! (Then the boy’s crazy Ex returns and slaughters them both. My addition.)” Absolutely out of the question!

I had to get out. Now, or else I would go mad. 

“Maya, don’t you fret a singular thing about Enoch; he’s just not the sharpest tool in the woodshed.” He put his hand on my shoulder, and I thanked him for it. “You don’t look too good.”

“I just need some fresh air.” I realized I had been staring at Millard, what was I looking for?

I walked past the invisible teen, then charged up the stairs, skipping steps along the way. 

“Hey Maya, you wanna…” Claire said, before I ran past her and Olive. I saw Hugh and Fiona in the garden, and I walked calmly past them. I sat under my now favorite bridge. Only Fiona knew where it was, so It was absolutely perfect for me to sit and think. 

I liked Millard. There’s no way he admires me back. A friend, nothing more. I was too dark. Too different. I was prejudiced against myself. I constantly wanted to get creams to whiten my skin, going so far as to not step foot outside without a hat and long sleeves.

I scribbled Millard's name on the ground. Millard Nullings. Then, on a whim, I wrote Amaya Nullings. Something sounded right about it, as if It called to me. I rubbed the sand back over the names, scolding myself for such thoughts.

"So, if it isn't the Author." A man in a very nicely trimmed suit said. He had black hair and grey eyes, almost like Enoch's, but duller and terrifying. "What are you doing here all alone? Shouldn't you be with some ymbryne, cowering under her skirts?"

"No. I am completely capable of taking care of myself." I said "Shouldn't someone like you be more of a gentleman and leave girls in their thoughts?"

"Ah, but I have a proposition for you! He said, sitting next to me on the bank.

“Go jump in the river.” I said

“Titus!” A man’s deep voice roared, making me jump. It was the only time I was ever glad that someone found me. “Do you not have any self respect anymore?”

“Sharon, I was just...” 

“Now.” He said quietly. Somehow his quiet voice was way scarier than his Normal voice.

Titus did not need anymore prompting. He left, muttering some curses I wouldn’t dare repeat.

“So, Little Lady, are you alright? Did Titus bother you?”

“No, I needed a jolt back to reality. What time is it?”

“Almost seven-thirty, judging by that normal walking by that shop.” I turned my head to see a person in rags begging for coins.

“Thanks, I need to get back to Miss P.” I said, “I’m in debt to you.”

“Never say that to someone you just met. They will take that debt.” 

“Well thanks for the advice as well. Good-bye!” 

Walking back to the house, I felt a sense of calm unlike any other. Millard was near

“Maya?” Millard said softly, I’m guessing not to frighten me. “Did what Enoch said upset you? I’m sorry he can be so thick headed.”

“No, no. It’s okay, I needed a walk.”

“About escorting you to dinner, may I?”

“It’s about time.” I said, and he held my hand as we walked. No one could see Millard walking with me, so it looked like I was alone. 

But I knew as long as Millard was here, I was never alone.


	9. A Peculiar Time

I was a tiny bit more talkative at dinner that night.

“Maya, where do you come from?”

“Tallahassee.” I said. 

Olive and Claire looked at me as if I had said the moon. “Florida.”

“Like Jacob!” Olive squealed.

“What is it like where you lived?”

“Um…” I didn’t wan’t to burden these children with my problems, so I said nothing.

“Goodness, Olive, you will never get any bigger if you talk during dinner instead of eating!” Bronwyn scolded.

“But Maya never answered the question.” 

Her face showed she genuinely wanted to hear.

“It snows sometimes. Not much, though. And we get loads of hurricanes.”

That seemed to satisfy them enough. After dinner, Millard and I were on wash duty.

“So…” Millard started, handing me the dish towel. “Do you want to read with me in the library? You know, during the changeover?”

“Changeover?”

“Loop reset. Devil’s Acre was set to be a punishment loop, so the changeover includes lightning and a bomb making contact with the ground, only to reset.”

“I was sleeping through the other two, right?”

“Yep, you are a surprisingly deep sleeper.”

“Okay. I would love to read in the library.” I said, smiling.

“Hey, Lovebirds, are you going to leave the sink running?” Horace asked.

“Hey, Dreamer, you wanna leave us to privacy? You’re almost as bad as Enoch.” I rolled my eyes.

“How are you not distressed that Millard isn't wearing any clothes?” It wasn’t sarcastic. It was a straightforward question.

“It’s only weird if you try to imagine it. Otherwise, it’s absolutely fine.” I said, grabbing Millard’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Besides, I have seen non-invisible men in speedos. That already scarred my poor eyes for life.”

Horace smiled and vacated the room.

I turned to Millard and grinned, “So, what about it, Nerd?”

“I am an intellectual.” He corrected me, and I could practically see him blush in my mind.

“Basically a geek.” I said

“Well, since you put it that way, you are a bookworm.”

“Dork.” I shot back.

“Bibliophile.”

“Egghead.”

“Pedologist.” He said, then put an arm around my shoulders. “You can’t stop the master of words.”

“What? No fair. You can't use words you can't spell!” I said.

“I know how to spell Pedologist! It’s P-E-D-O-L-O-G-I-S-T.”

“Okay, Smartypants, I believe you.” I laughed, then whacked Millard with the dish towel.

* * *

For whom knows how long Millard and I read in the library. We shared a couch, and my mind expanded with stories of grimbears and emuraffes, boys who could pull the tides, and ymbrynes protecting children. By now I was getting exhausted.

“Maya? You felt my face, and drew me. I want to feel yours. I want to see you in the same way that you see me.” Millard said softly. “May I?”

“Of course. Millard,” I said and felt his hand on my face, tracing features, like I had with his when I drew him.  
His touch was gentle, like one who spent more time inside. But they had a roughness to them, so obviously he has had his share of work. It was so unusual, the thought of not being able to see him, but feel the warmth that radiated off his fingers. I felt sparks, and closed my eyes and smiled. I scooted closer to him. It was cold tonight, and my eyes were heavy.

“Good night, Maya,” I heard him say.

In my dream, It was obvious that what Miss Peregrine had said to me got in my head.

I was at a writing desk, about the size of my own. Words were coming off the pages and manifesting into people of all shapes and colors and sizes. They smiled at me, but suddenly turned dark.

“It’s all your fault! I hate my peculiarity! It’s a curse!”

“If it wasn’t for you, my wife would be alive!”

“Burn the witch!”

I ran, and saw the peculiar children all looking at me, crazy smiles on their faces.

“Millard?” I looked for him.

"Amaya, you must be strong."

"You must be brave.” 

“You must be quick.”

“You must be good.”

“You must be fair.”

“You must be truthful.” 

“You must wake up.”

“What?” I asked

“Maya, you fell asleep in the library. It’s time to go to your room,” Bronwyn said

“Thanks Wyn.” I said, and groaned. I realized Millard was sleeping next to me, but Bronwyn couldn’t see him.

“Uh, I’ll be there in a minute. Just hold on.” As Bronwyn went to go to her room, I shook Millard awake.

“Excuse me, you fell asleep next to me. Hurry and go to your room before anyone finds out.” I whispered.

“You are a lifesaver, Maya.” He laughed, and I helped him up. I pulled a little too hard, and he fell on top of me. His body was close to mine, and I felt his breath on my face. He traced my face, like before, but softer, barely touching. I wondered what went through his mind, and whether or not he actually liked me like I did with him.

“Millard, are you okay?” I asked softly.

“Better than I have in a long time.” he whispered.

We kissed. I had no idea how it happened, me leaning closer to vanquish any space between us, him lightly touching my lips, our foreheads touching, and finally, it just happened.

His kiss was soft, and sent shivers down my spine. I had never felt anything like it before, and I was glad to share my first kiss with Millard. He pressed softly against me, and I felt sparks erupt between us.

So this is love.

**Author's Note:**

> BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!... Like 2020


End file.
